The Borneo Option
by TheUlmuri
Summary: Lethal Secrets One-shot. Set in the summer between the attack on Brookland Comprehensive and the meeting of COBRA. Alex tops off on his jungle survival training in the rainforests of Borneo with the newest set of Special Forces recruits.


**I do not own Alex Rider. Enough said.**

**This took so much longer than I was expecting to write. The tone is a bit different from Lethal Secrets as the focus shifts away from the angst and the action and towards the dynamics of the Special Forces. This is about how Alex interacts with his equals— others trained in the art of war. **

**So the name of this story, as you may or may not have noticed (depending on how much you're into reading spy novels) is a play on Robert Ludlum's **_**The Paris Option**_**, but as far as I'm aware, there is no similarity whatsoever in the plot (since I have yet to read that particular book. I'm on **_**The Bancroft Strategy**_** right now). The name just popped into my head one day and it stuck and I became completely unable to think of this piece with any other name. So **_**The Borneo Option**_** it is.**

**Continuity: **Lethal Secrets

**Rating:** T (moderate violence and profanity)

**Inspiration:** "Jungle training is usually carried out in the thick rainforest of Borneo with candidates allocated to four man patrols, each patrol supervised by a member of the Directing Staff (DS). Patrols are required to _stand-to_ for one hour at dawn and one hour at dusk and personnel must keep a knife on their person at all times. Damp and rain are persistent, potentially demoralizing the candidate, and skin contusions, insect bites, cuts and blisters must be cared for due to the risk of infection. Training includes jungle survival, patrol techniques, navigation, boat handling, camp and observation post techniques, contact drills and medicine." – Wikipedia: "United Kingdom Special Forces Selection"(1)

**Summary**: Set in the summer between the attack on Brookland Comprehensive and the meeting of COBRA. Alex tops off on his jungle survival training in the rainforests of Borneo with the newest set of Special Forces recruits.

The Borneo Option

It was wet.

Bone chillingly, miserably, wet.

The kind of wet that makes you wonder if you will _ever_ be entirely dry again.

The sun was just beginning to climb over the horizon as five men stood to attention deep within the jungle of Brunei. They had been holding the position for nearly forty minutes and they still had twenty to go. It was like this every day. For an hour at dawn, and again at dusk, the unit would stand immobile under the watchful eye of a member of the Directing Staff, not daring to move a muscle out of position until they were given the permission to do so.

Rain spattered continuously on to Alex Rider's bare head as he stood rigidly still next to the four members of his temporary unit. He didn't so much as blink as the steady rain trickled over his forehead and slowly dripped into his eyes. Never once did the hard, grim expression that he had schooled his facial muscles into slip or crack and there was not so much a twitch or a sigh to betray any possible discomfort from staying in one position so long. The same could be said of his comrades.

The five of them continued to stand in stony silence for what felt like an immeasurable amount of time before a gruff voice filtered towards them through the jungle's rainy half-light.

"At ease, soldiers," the DS member said, and the five of them began to relax and move as if the were statues that were slowly coming to life. "You can head to mess now."

Mess consisted of eating packets of tasteless, rehydrated food as the five of them huddled in their small, tarp-covered camp, trying fruitlessly to avoid the damp that permeated all of their possessions and the very air around them.

This was the stage of selection where a recruit was most likely to be binned. The constant rain and primitive conditions were disheartening at the best of times and downright miserable at the worst. The environment provided optimum breeding grounds for a whole host of insects and other unpleasant creatures and presented plenty of opportunities for sickness and infection.

It was, in a word, Hell.

Alex claimed a corner of the small camp that was slightly removed from the members of his temporary unit and let their quiet conversation wash over him as he sat back and considered the chances each of them had of passing the selection process. They had been in Borneo for nearly five weeks and they still had a little over a week to go. So far, none of the men had shown signs of buckling under the pressure, but whether or not they would be asked to stick around to see the next phase of the selection process after the final assessment was yet to be seen.

Alex recalled the circumstances of his previous stay in the jungle as he leaned back against one of the trees on the edge of the small camp. He had only been fifteen during his first time through and was far from having gained the respect of the recruits that he had accompanied. Their reactions had been similar to Wolf's initial opinion of him and the six-week stay had been hellish to say the least. His experience this time around had been vastly different right from the start.

***

_Alex had arrived via military chopper several days after the recruits. Training had yet to start as the Directing Staff gave the men a day or two to settle in before introducing them to the newest form of torture that had been set up for them for the next six weeks. His temporary unit had been standing at attention at the edge of the cleared space that served as a helipad along with their overseeing officer from the DS, waiting for his arrival._

_The Officer addressed the unit as the pilot landed and powered down the chopper. "All right, men," he barked. "We've got another man who will be joining your unit for the duration of this phase of your training." The officer paused and jerked his head towards where Alex, dressed in full military garb, sable belt and sand colored beret of the SAS included, had jumped out of the chopper and was approaching the small group. "This is Cub." _

_Alex smirked inwardly was he watched the angry and dissatisfied faces of the soldiers transform into ones of incredulity as his identity was revealed. Although details among the recruits were hazy and almost non-existent, almost every one of them knew that a soldier referred to only by his codename, Cub, had been the one to set the bar._

_The officer of the Directing Staff didn't work as hard as Alex did to hide his grim amusement with the unit's reactions. He turned to Alex as the spy came to a stop beside him. "Cub, it's good to see you again," he said in greeting while offering his hand for Alex to shake. "How was Cambodia?"_

_Alex grasped the officer's hand firmly, his lips twitching slightly as if he were fighting a wry smile. "Charming," he replied, a fine edge of sarcasm in his voice. "No different from any other South Asian rainforest," he added, thinking of the days that he had spent hacking through the dense Cambodian jungles in order to reach the remote location of his target. _

_The officer nodded before returning his attention back to the unit of prospective soldiers. "Cub is here to brush up on his jungle survival training." He drawled. "Unlike the rest of you he doesn't have anything to prove, but you shouldn't let that cloud your judgment. He won't be _helping _you so don't expect for this to be easier for you than it is for anyone else. If anything we'll be pushing you harder—and you better hope that you can keep up. You're hosting the soldier who reset the bar concerning what we expect from you and you should pay him the respect that he deserves. I should warn you, most rumors around here would have you believe that those who underestimate him often find themselves in less than desirable circumstances." _

_The officer nodded once more in acknowledgement to Alex before walking away, his thinly veiled threats hanging over the unit like a black cloud as Alex stood, deeply amused, beside them._

***

An unexpected outburst of laughter snapped Alex out of his musings, bringing him back to the present and his position in the shadows at the edge of their small camp. He smiled wryly to himself as he watched the unit interact. As a general rule, SAS soldiers were of the grim and silent type, but mess—despite the poor quality of the food—was the time where members of a unit got to loosen up and get to know one another.

Though it was often difficult to do so, considering specializations and ten percent pass rate, Special Forces tried to keep units together as much as possible after selection. In this way, the recruitment process was more than a test of strength and will: It was a bonding exercise, and by the time a team came out on the other side, half their training was complete and they were truly a unified group.

Sometimes a unit never learned to mesh together, and more often than not, recruits in discordant units were those who found themselves binned first. It was all about the power balance— if one member was too dominant, or all of them too passive, the slightest bit of upheaval could send the unit into a tail spin that it would be unable to recover from.

Another laugh rang through the camp and Alex focused his attention on his temporary unit, noting the ease with which they interacted with each other—this was not a group that had anything to worry about, though the diversity of their goals made it unlikely that they would stay together. A low, quiet chuckle of his own passed Alex's lips as he watched the four men rib on each other. It was a stark contrast to their usually professional demeanors.

Coyote, the youngest of the prospective unit looked up at the sound of Alex's quiet laugh, nodding to him in acknowledgement, before returning his attention to the heated discussion that his unit mates seemed to be involved in. Alex still didn't know the twenty-one-year-old's real name, and he probably never would. Though there was no guarantee that any given recruit would pass selection— in fact it was likely they wouldn't— each of the men was given a codename at the very beginning of the rigorous six-month test of skill. Recruits were allowed to share information about their background and anticipated specializations, as long as they kept their identities and personal information in the dark.

Coyote's gaze flickered back over to Alex before he jerked his head in a sharp gesture towards his companions, silently inviting Alex to join the group. Alex nodded and stood, idly thinking of how different this jungle experience was compared to his last one. Unlike his first experience, his temporary comrades didn't go out of their way to shun him, and while he stayed on the periphery of the group out of both preference and necessity, he was respected and generally included in the unit.

Alex settled down across from the four soldiers, separated from them by the camp's damp and burned out fire pit and picked up one of the many sticks that was strewn about the forest floor, using it to idly stir the ashes of their last fire as he continued to study his companions pensively.

Coyote was an RAF Leading Aircraftman with an easygoing attitude and an incredibly strong sense of duty. He may have been the youngest of the prospective recruits in the unit, but he had the zeal of youth to help him through. He was a bit on the lanky side, standing a few inches taller than Alex's 6'2", but he was strong and hardy. Coyote was a bit headstrong, preferring to live life on the edge and Alex knew that he was hoping to specialize in the parachute division of the SAS if he made it through the rigorous selection process. While Alex admired his enthusiasm, he was uncertain about how it would continue to serve him in the SAS, feeling that the pilot would do well to be tempered by a few more years of experience.

Devil on the other hand was Coyote's foil. As a quiet and reserved, twenty-three-year-old Staff Sergeant in the British Army, Devil had a seriousness about him that was unusual for someone of his age. He had a good head for tactical analysis, easily reading any situation that he found himself in and planning his steps accordingly. Despite his tactical skills, Devil preferred to remain quiet, only occasionally lending his advice and staying away from the spotlight of a leading role. His plan was to specialize in sniping, and Alex had to admit that the soldier was one of the better sharp shooters that he had seen. If he made it through the selection process, he would be shipped off to CTCRM(2) to complete his training.

Next was Hawk. At thirty-one, he was the oldest of the recruits in the unit, coming from a position of Midshipman in the Royal Navy. Due to his status as eldest and highest-ranking member of the group, Hawk had become the unit leader by default, but he didn't abuse the leadership he was given. While he had all of the experience that Coyote lacked, his age was his disadvantage. Many of his competitors for the coveted spots in the SAS were younger than him by nearly a decade. The Special Forces didn't accept recruits over the age of thirty-two, so if Hawk didn't make it this time around, he was unlikely to get a second chance. So far Hawk had been keeping up with the rest of the recruits without trouble and Alex had a feeling that his age wouldn't be the handicap that it was for so many older recruits. The older man was hoping to continue on to SBS(3) recruiting, which consisted of several more months of grueling training in diving, canoeing, beach reconnaissance, and marine counterterrorism. Alex was fairly certain that Hawk would make it through the training, but only time would tell.

The last member of the unit was Panther. Panther, like Devil, was on the reserved side. He was a twenty-six-year-old Corporal in the RAF who was planning on training with the Special Reconnaissance Regiment upon completion of selection. Alex had smiled and laughed good-naturedly when he had heard the soldier's plans, but studied him closer than the others for it. Special Recon was the newest section of the Special Forces, established in 2004. Its members provided surveillance and "eyes on" intelligence on targets to the SAS and SBS, meaning that those in the Regiment were similar to operatives employed by MI5 or MI6. Alex had actually gone through some of the regiment's training process at the request of his employers the previous summer, and the only thing that he had had to tell the prospective recruit was to be prepared for some of the most grueling weeks of his life—as if their current situation wasn't bad enough.

All too soon, mess had passed and the four recruits and their companion spook found themselves standing at attention, waiting to be informed about the day's activities. Jungle training was a crash course in first aid, patrol, camp, and observation post techniques, navigation, contact drills, and boat handling. Recruits were required to carry a blade on their person at all times; a simple enough rule, but one that could get a resourceful soldier out of any almost any situation that he ran across in the jungle. The basic conditions tested the will of the recruit, making the already rigorous phase of the selection all the more difficult.

"Alright, men," the DS officer said gruffly when the five of them were assembled in front of him, "You've got a fifty kilometer trip down river to make today. From there you'll be hiking another ten kliks with your canoes to the next camp. You have until nightfall to reach your destination, set up patrols and contact base camp. Your progress will be followed by one of our choppers and I will meet you at camp later tonight. Be aware that exceeding your time limit will be severely detrimental to your final assessment and will probably get you binned. Do you understand?"

Alex and the four recruits responded with a chorus of "Yes, sirs" and the officer nodded in satisfaction.

"Then your dismissed," he said, turning away from the unit and toward the waiting chopper as the four recruits plus Alex immediately rushed away to pack up camp and ready their canoes.

***

The trip downriver was uneventful, if far from leisurely. The river was slow and sluggish as it wound through the jungle of Brunei, offering little speed to their trek and a forcing them to rely paddling and their own strength to set the necessary pace. The five of them were split into three lightweight canoes: the first two carrying two men apiece and the third, the last man and the majority of their equipment. There was little to no communication between the boats as they propelled themselves downriver.

Panther and Hawk formed the vanguard of their advancement downriver. One was in charge of navigation for the trip, while the other provided the muscle to maneuver the canoe. Every once and a while they would trade tasks, ensuing that neither of them got too tired as they set the pace. Next came Coyote and Devil. The two men had a similar arrangement to their unit mates in the division of tasks, thought their role for the trip was different. While one was paddling, the other was scanning the banks, an M4A1 assault rifle within arm's reach, ready to respond to any threat that may come from the cover provided by the trees and thick undergrowth that cam right up to the banks of the river.

Alex sat in the middle of the last canoe, agilely maneuvering the vessel to take advantage of the river's weak current wherever he could. He too squinted through the heavy rain as eyes scanned the banks with a critical eye, his own M4 carbine sitting on his lap, ready to pick up and fire at a moments notice.

While there was little chance of getting attacked from their position on the water, the first imperative of jungle survival was to be prepared for attack at any time. Dangers were often variable and unexpected, ranging from the venomous insects and larger predators that roamed the forests to other, hostile human presence. The Americans especially had found out the hard way in Vietnam that jungles provided the optimal setting for insurgent troops to use guerilla warfare tactics, and on their home turf, the Viet Kong proved impossible to beat, despite the American's superior military and weaponry. Short of having the advantage, the best shot a foreign army had while in an unfamiliar jungle was unwavering vigilance and a firm grounding in how to survive in the hostile environment—the reason that the Borneo section of the recruitment process was so necessary.

Every once and a while the five soldiers would hear the distinct sound of the reconnaissance chopper's blades cutting through the damp air high up above, but their vision was too obscured by the unrelenting downpour of heavy rain drops for them to make it out. It was a truly miserable environment; their soaked uniforms were heavy and stuck uncomfortably to the skin, and, while the recruits didn't have to worry about it due to the military issue buzz cut, Alex's hair was plastered to his forehead, hanging nearly into his eyes further obscuring his vision. Their Klepper canoes would have quickly filled and their equipment soaked through if it wasn't for the water repellant tarps that kept the majority of the water out of the hulls.

The downpour continued unabated until the early afternoon when it suddenly let up and the weather shifted with the usual fickleness of the jungle condition. Despite the respite in the precipitation, the five soldiers still couldn't help but feel that they were inhaling more water than air. The afternoon hung thick and uncomfortable around them as steam began to rise from the forest and the humidity smothered them like an oppressive blanket.

Unnecessary layers were quickly shed in an effort to beat the muggy heat that had replaced the rain and give their clothing a chance to dry. Alex, like the others, soon stripped off his shirt, letting his skin soak up the sun that was breaking through the near constant layer of clouds and leaving his upper body adorned only by his dog tags, which hung from his neck by a long chain. Training was one of the few times he wore the dull metal tags—he couldn't afford to when he was on assignment, and until a couple of weeks previous, they had been too much of a hassle to conceal at school.

The afternoon wore on and eventually Hawk called out that they were nearing the portage that they had been making for. About five minutes later, a small sheltered cove came into view, carved out from the bank by the river currents. They drove the canoes up onto the rocky shore of the cove and disembarked, pulling the boats further up onto the riverbank behind them.

With the majority of the journey completed, the five of them stopped for a short rest on the edge of the river before they continued to trek on foot. They took advantage of the time to eat some of the rations that they had packed in their bags and to stretch their tired and sore muscles before they had to start moving again.

Alex paced slowly along the length of the small beach, stretching his legs after having been in the same position without rest for the majority of the day. He stretched his arms above his head, groaning quietly in satisfaction as he felt the joints in his back and shoulders pop. His arms were heavy with the familiar burn of prolonged exertion, and he welcomed the feeling— it was one he thrived on.

Eventually, Alex stopped his pacing to stare unseeingly across the river into the dense jungle on the opposite bank. There was always something about the jungle environment that kept him enthralled. Despite the dangers and harsh and usually unpleasant conditions, there was something about seeing nature at its most untamed that drew him in and kept him captive—that was, when he wasn't hacking through it for days at a time with nothing but a survival pack, his usual arsenal and an AS50 sniper rifle. He was brought out his musings by the call of one of his temporary teammates.

"Cub," Coyote called. "What's that?" he asked, nodding his chin to imply that he was referring to the spy's back.

Alex glanced over his shoulder in reflex, "What?" he countered. "The scars or the ink?" he asked guardedly.

"The ink," Coyote replied, indicating the half finished tattoo that covered the majority of the spy's back and the row of tally marks that ran down the edge of his back to the left of it. He was interested in the scars as well, but there was something dark in Cub's eyes that warned him not to ask about them. By now, the others had caught on to their conversation and quieted down to hear the answer, they were all equally as curious.

"It's Atlas," Alex sighed reluctantly. "I didn't have time to have it finished before they shipped me out."

The unit nodded quietly in understanding. There was a tone to the young man's voice that implied that there were many stories behind the choice, but that he was unwilling to share them.

"And the tallies?" Coyote prodded gently when Alex didn't go on, still curious but unwilling to overstep any boundaries.

Alex's expression darkened almost imperceptibly and his eyes flashed to the young soldier's before he went back to staring unseeingly into the jungle on the other side of the river. "There's a mark there for every man I've killed," he said, his tone devoid of life and emotion. He didn't react to the various hisses and shocked intakes of breath, knowing that the soldiers' eyes would be returning to the tattoo, taking a second to count the general number of marks.

A wary silence enveloped the camp as the team realized just how many marks were inked into Alex's back. "What are you?" Coyote asked eventually. "Black Ops?"

Alex let out a humorless chuckle as he walked back to his canoe and grabbed the shirt that he had stowed away during their river journey. "No," he replied. "But I'm close enough that I may as well be." He quickly slipped the army green tee shirt over his head, hiding the ink and scars and effectively ending the conversation. "It's time for us to start moving again," he continued as he hefted his pack onto his shoulders. "We've been here long enough."

***

The remaining ten kilometers on foot passed quickly and without conversation, each lost in their own thoughts as they hacked their way though the jungle in single file. Hawk, Devil and Alex carried one of the three canoes on their backs in addition to their large Bergen packs. The Klepper canoes that were used in selection and in the SBS were extremely lightweight and built using a collapsible frame of Birch or Ash with a light, durable, water proof fabric stretched over it. A single soldier could easily transport one of the canoes over long distances without issue, which is what made them so desirable for Special Forces.

Devil took the lead for the trek, setting the pace and pushing his way though the underbrush. Hawk was close behind him, handling the map and compass, making sure that the unit stayed on the correct course while Coyote and Panther followed behind, M4A1s at the ready. Once again, Alex was fulfilled the role of rearguard, his own rifle in his hands. This was his usual position when the unit had training exercises such as the one they were currently participating in—it was more important for the four prospective recruits to be involved in the maneuvers than it was for him. He was there to brush up on his skills, but had to keep his participation in the team training to a minimum so that he wasn't actively interfering in the selection process. He tried to avoid letting them defer to his experience and general knowledge for the same reason—he wasn't there to make their recruitment any easier.

Alex couldn't stop thinking about the conversation that he had with the rest of the unit back on the riverbank, knowing that his last remarks were true. The older he got, the more his job edged towards Black Ops rather than espionage. It was something that he had originally had trouble coming to terms with, but was resigned to it, expected it even. He had the training of both the world's best assassins and some of the world's best spies and soldiers; it was a deadly combination that he couldn't expect his employers to pass up the chance to exploit, even if it meant that the body count he racked up grew at an unprecedented rate.

Alex sighed quietly to himself as the five of them continued to weave—and sometimes literally hack—their way though the jungle's dense undergrowth. The air was steamy and oppressive as the dense canopy trapped in the heat and acted like a natural green house. Evening was fast approaching and the jungle seemed to wake up as the sun crept nearer and nearer to the horizon. They could hear the sounds of life, both animal and insect, all around them, although there was little evidence of their presence.

The unit had kept up a steady pace for the last two hours and Alex knew that they had to reach their destination soon if they were going to arrive within the time limit. He estimated that they didn't have very far left to go, but he had a feeling it would be close. Eventually, just as dusk was approaching and Alex looked down to his watch to see that they had just under twenty minutes to reach the RV, Hawk called out that they were approaching the coordinates of their destination and that they should begin looking out for a place to set up camp.

The five of them scouted out the area, looking for a defensible position to set up camp that could also easily provide then with whatever resources they would need form the forest.

"There's a tributary over here," Panther called out from three hundred meters to Alex's right after they had been searching for a couple of minutes, and the rest of the unit quickly followed his voice until they were standing together on the edge of the small river's bank.

The five of them looked into the silt filled waters at their feet, knowing that it was the best that they would be able to find. They would have to rely on their filters and iodine tablets to make the water drinkable.

We won't be able to stay right on the river," Devil said eventually. "There's no knowing what kind of animal life congregates here at night."

The others nodded in agreement and the four soldiers began debating what the best spot to set up camp was while Alex looked on with interest, comparing their assessments with his own.

The unit ultimately opted to set up camp in a relatively clear area about a hundred yards away from the tributary. Before they even began setting up camp, Panther removed the unit's field radio from his pack and began hailing base camp over the approved military frequencies. They also set out signals to make the reconnaissance chopper aware of their location.

With base camp aware of their position, the five of them went about setting up camp and soon three small tents had been erected, each big enough for two men, and a tarp had been stretched between the closest trees to keep the worst of the rain at bay. A light drizzle had started up again as dusk approached and the temperatures dropped. Alex worked on starting a small fire from the damp supply of wood they had managed to gather while Hawk divvied up the patrols that they would be running throughout the night.

Twenty minutes after they had gotten the camp in order, Alex stood on the edge of their patrol area, having taken the first shift. He noticed unnatural movement in the underbrush about 200 meters away and carefully lifted his M1 to a ready position, prepared to take action if the movement was a threat. Slowly, the form of the Unit's overseeing DS officer became discernable from the twilight that had fallen over the jungle and Alex lowered his rifle, quickly saluting the officer before relaxing his stance.

"Cub," the DS officer greeted with a nod and acknowledged the higher-ranking spy with a small salute of his own. "How'd they do?" he asked gruffly.

Alex's small smile could only be seen by the minute upward twitch at the corners of his lips. As compensation for allowing Alex to brush up on his training, the Directing Staff often made use of his presence to give them an external expert opinion on the performance of the men in the unit— another reason why Alex tended to hang back during team maneuvers. "Not bad," he replied wryly. "I was a little worried that we weren't going to make it in time, but we had around five minutes left to spare by the time they had chosen where to set up camp and hailed base. They're good at splitting tasks among themselves and working though them efficiently. It's too bad they wouldn't all be sticking together if they all made it through—they work well as a unit."

"And what do you make of their choice of camp location?" the man asked, looking for the details now that the general opinion of the unit's performance had been covered.

"The locations is prime for resources—it's close enough to the stream they found for it to serve a as viable water source and there's as much protection from the elements as you can get out here, but strategically, I think it leaves a little to be desired. There's not much in the way of natural defenses that would make it easy to secure and it would be relatively easy for an opposing force to surround them. There were a handful of other places they could have chosen that would have been more easily defensible."

The older man nodded, as if Alex's assessment agreed with his own and Alex noticed a slightly sadistic glint in his eye. Alex knew from experience that it could only mean that the man had all manner of surprise night exercises planned for the unit that night.

"And individually?" the man prompted.

Alex sighed running a hand tiredly through his hair. With such a low pass rate, any comment that was made about an individual recruit was factored into the final decision of whether they passed selection. He knew that whatever he told the Directing Staff would factor considerably into each soldier's chances, and while he knew that they were all great guys in their own rights, objectivity was key.

"They've all got their strengths and weaknesses," he began. "Hawk may have the disadvantage of his age, but he makes up for it in leadership and skill. He's got a level head, and enough experience behind him to avoid jumping into something without considering all his options, but he's still got the guts to deliberately walk into a dangerous situation. Skills wise, he does better with the boat handling than anything else, but I guess that's to be expected if he's aiming for a spot in the SBS."

The officer nodded in understanding, a calculating look in his eye as he motioned for Alex to carry on his assessment of the unit.

"Panther on the other hand, has all the qualities of a good leader, but rarely employs them," Alex continued. "He likes to stay on the periphery of the unit, listening and putting his two cents in every once and a while. He's got a good head for analysis— though there are times when I wish he would assert his observations a little more forcefully— and he's one of the better sharpshooters that I've come across. He'll make an excellent sniper if he passes selection."

"And Coyote?"

"He's young and reckless," Alex said wryly.

The DS officer chuckled. "He's got four years on you," he pointed out. "And most of us would classify your tactics as reckless.

"True," acknowledged Alex. "But a part of him is still hanging on to the belief that he's invincible, and I lost that illusion at fourteen. He's got an entire unit that's affected by his actions, while I for the most part work alone. It's good that he's willing to walk into a dangerous situation with open eyes, but he's a bit too eager, and one day, it's going to bite him in the ass. It didn't come out so much today though, since the focus was on the trek rather than covert action. His curiosity though, can be trying."

"Was he asking some sensitive questions?" the DS msn asked, a mixture of understanding and amusement in his eyes.

"You could say that," Alex sighed tiredly before jumping into his assessment of the unit's last member. "Devil's a lot like Panther. He's quiet, but calculating. You can see that he takes everything around him in and uses it to come up with the best possible course of action. He's a loner though; you can tell that some of the team exercises are tiresome for him. He manages and it isn't as if he can't work with them, but if you watch him it's evident that he'd rather be working alone."

"Do you think he has what it takes to make it in espionage?" the man asked, aware of the soldier's aspirations.

"He's got a lot of potential," Alex replied honestly. "With the right training I think he'd be a valuable asset. Sometimes you see men fly through training only to crash and burn in the field, but I think Devil has what it takes."

The older man nodded in understanding, bringing the conversation to a close. The two of them walked companionable silence as they made their way towards the makeshift camp.

***

A loud shout woke Alex from his restless sleep and his hand immediately reached for the combat knife that he kept on or near his person at all times. Gripping the handle tightly in his left hand, he quickly shook the last tendrils of sleepiness out of his mind and brought himself to a state of full awareness. He could hear the sounds of confrontation all around him as he quickly slipped on his boots, grabbed his carbine and exited his tent, melting into the deep shadows of the rainforest at night.

Alex immediately recognized the situation to be one of the Directing Staff's surprise attacks, designed to test the efficiency of the unit's patrols and the speed and accuracy with which they could defend themselves. Their adversaries were Green Jackets, a division of the army with an intense dislike for SAS soldiers that was often used during Special Forces selection to test the readiness and mental strength of the recruits. Their rivalry with that SAS was intense, if based off of an inferiority complex, and it had only heightened in the past three years after Alex had caused problems for them during a training exercise.

Alex vividly remembered his first encounter with them while he was training with K-Unit for the first time. They had raided the huts in the middle of the night as part of RTI(4) training, and they had had much more fun than was strictly necessary carrying out their interrogations. Anyone who divulged information during the exercise was immediately binned. Alex had taken advantage of his small size and their underestimation of his abilities to break his unit free from the building where they were being held, much to the Green Jackets humiliation(5).

It was still raining lightly and Alex used the background noise to cover the sounds of his movements. His feet were light on the forest floor as he slipped quietly into the undergrowth, keeping his eyes open for his opponents. The rest of the unit had also reacted immediately to Panther's—the member who had been on patrol—shout and were now fiercely trying to defend the camp. As Alex had predicted, they were having difficulties due to their choice of location.

Alex continued to stalk silently through the woods, his knife held at the ready while his M1 carbine was slung over his shoulder. They had all been supplied with non-lethal rounds to use in training exercises, but they still hurt like hell and hit with bruising force.

Either way, a gun was too noisy for what he had in mind.

Once he was far enough into the woods and away from the main confrontation, Alex doubled back in a wide arc to sneak up behind their adversaries from behind. He paused as he neared the fighting, ceasing all movement in the dense shadows of a tree and closing his eyes as he focused intently on his hearing alone. After a few moments, his eyes snapped open and a grim smirk slid onto his features, displaying his satisfaction. Confident that he had located his quarry, he stepped almost silently though the forest until he found himself directly behind—yet still unnoticed by—the Green Jackets' scout shooter who was focused on lining up his first shot, a vindictive gleam in his eyes.

The unit may have had to fight their own battle, but Alex was perfectly entitled to work behind the scenes. He leaned causally against a nearby tree, spinning his combat knife casually between his fingers.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said nonchalantly, just as the still oblivious soldier moved to pull the trigger.

The scout shooter started in surprise, spinning around to see the young man who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. He swung his gun around to point at Alex.

Alex chuckled in dark amusement at the soldier's actions. "Put the gun down, soldier," he said, and though his tone was still amused, it was filled with subtle command. "You won't have time to use it anyway."

Alex let an ominous smile cross his face as he saw the apprehension in the shooter's eyes. He wouldn't usually act so arrogantly, but the Green Jackets were just too much_ fun_ to mess with. His training with the SAS had made sure that he too was instilled with the mutual dislike that had been fostered between the two divisions of the military.

At the very least, Wolf would get a kick out of this story.

"Who are you?" the soldier asked uncertainty, unnerved by how causally Alex was acting despite being in the business end of a gun, even if it was only one loaded with non-lethal rounds.

Alex let out another low chuckle and the soldier shivered at the way that it seemed to come straight from the darkness that surrounded them. "I believe you and your comrades know me as Cub," he said easily. An amused glint entered his eyes as he watched the soldier's eyes widened perceptibly and simultaneously become more apprehensive and more angry.

The shooter's grip on his weapon tightened and Alex could see the war going on behind his eyes. Like every Green Jacket, the soldier had a special dislike for the teenager that had humiliated them, but knew enough that challenging him was not a decision to be taken lightly.

Alex saw the decision as it formed in the man's eyes and had moved before the soldier had so much as aimed. Before the man could process what was happening, Alex had come up behind him and pressed his knife to the man's throat. He wouldn't hurt him, no, but he wasn't going to pass up the chance to scare the hell out of him.

"I don't think so," he said quietly into the man's ear, causing him to squirm uncomfortably. "The way I see it there are two options," Alex continued casually. "Either you save face now and no one ever knows that _Cub_ managed catch a Green Jacket by surprise _again_, or we can make your humiliation complete. From the sounds of it my unit has managed to turn the tide in their favor and I'm not sure your plight would endear you to your squadron at the moment."

The scout shooter swallowed audibly, causing his Adams apple to bob and press into the blade's sharp steel edge. He instinctively pulled back as much as was able to in his current position, but there was now a thin, red line on his throat where the blade had sliced his skin. Alex didn't need to see the man's face to know that his intense dislike for the teen and his desire to exact revenge was warring with his fear of being humiliated in front of the other members of his squadron.

Alex gave the man another moment of quiet, letting the tension and anticipation to build before he spoke again.

"So soldier, what's it going to be?"

**End.**

**No, there will not be any more. Yes, it's supposed to be a cliff hanger. I said something about an **_**option**_** (hence the title), but I never said anything about a **_**decision**_**. So there.**

**It seems that Alex has a bit of a sadistic side, though we all know that he would never take it too far. Overall, there's a lot of differences in how Alex acts around his classmates and how he acts around other soldiers.**

**While the premise for this story is realistic, I've taken creative license for what actual training exercises would be like. I think I would have to live through it to give an accurate description, and that, for many reasons, will not be happening. **

**I actually got the river journey idea from the film **_**Apocalypse Now**_**. If you haven't seen it, then you need to (though it is rated R). I swear, the director must have been on a massive acid trip when he filmed the first two thirds of the film, but it's absolutely amazing. For any of you who have read **_**Heart of Darkness**_** (which I haven't), it's supposed to be an interpretation of that with a lens on the Vietnam War.**

**(1)**** I know, I know, Wikipedia is never the best place to source for research, but it did provide a concise and well-worded summary, which is what I needed.**

**(2) Commando Training Center of the Royal Marines. SF snipers are put through the same program as Marines who also choose to specialize in sniping. **

**(3) SBS: the Special Boat Service. The naval component of the British Special Forces. It's the approximate equivalent to the US Navy S.E.A.L.s. Not sure what it would be in the Russian Navy…I guess I know what I'm researching next…**

**(4) Resistance To Interrogation.**

**(5) Basically Horowitz's unpublished chapter from Stormbreaker detailing one of the exercises from Alex's stint with the SAS. I think if you go to a site like Amazon or Barnes & Noble and click the 'read excerpt' button, this is what you get. At least that's how I found it the first time. **

**Playlist:**

**Hulk Theme (End Credits)- Craig Armstrong, Incredible Hulk (2008) Soundtrack.**

**Lose Yourself- Eminem, 8 Mile Soundtrack**

**Tourniquet- Evanescence, Fallen**

**Tell me what you think!**


End file.
